An Artifactual Loss
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Brennan catches up on watching television news broadcasts, to her dismay.


An Artifactual Loss

 **A/N: This is how I imagine Brennan might react to a recent unfortunate occurrence in South America, which I saw on Google News. The FF publication system wiped out my story spacing for some reason. I'm giving it a day to self-correct. Otherwise, I'll re-space the paragraphs manually. Anyone else had this issue?**

Booth wiped the grease from his hands with an already grimy rag, and sighed in contentment. Finishing the carburetor rebuild for Parker's truck meant that it could be installed this weekend when his son arrived for a visit. The University of Maryland Applied Anthropology and Historic Preservation graduate seminar his eldest was attending this semester meant more time to spend restoring Pop's 1969 Chevy C-10 Shortbed Fleetside together.

They hadn't yet decided whether to repaint it the original Mariner Turquoise and white or choose another color scheme. Booth didn't care; he was just relishing their Saturday afternoons together. He stored his tools and placed the carburetor on his workbench, locked the shop door against Little Hank's curiosity and headed for the house.

His stomach rumbled in anticipation of Brennan's grilled cheese sandwiches. "Another mark Pops left on this family," he thought. If asked to rank his grandfather's mac and cheese recipe and his wife's nutmeg Carly Victor-inspired version, or rate their cheesy sandwich specialties, Booth would be hard-pressed to choose his favorites; he loved them all.

He ascended the back porch steps in one broad stride and opened the kitchen door. Brennan was watching the small television set mounted in the corner of the room, her back to him, her shoulders shaking slightly. He paused his steps and studied his wife a moment before placing his hand gently on her back.

"Bones?"

Turning to him wordlessly, face streaming tears, she pointed to the screen, finally whispering

"Oh, Booth, look… what a loss…"

He followed her line of sight to the fiery blaze depicted and the chyron scrolling below it. "Huge

fire guts Brazil's 200-year old National Museum," he read.

"The fossilized Luzia skull and its reconstruction, the indigenous masks, feather work, and

artifacts of the Atlantic coastal Tupi Sambaqui, all the excavation records of those domestic

middens…centuries of culture; all lost!" she exclaimed.

Booth knew she was referring to the massive shell mounds left by ancient natives along Brazil's

southern coast.

"All the collections of South American lace bug holotypes are only preserved there, nowhere

else. Hodgins will be sick when he hears about this," Brennan gasped.

"Why only there?", Booth asked her softly.

"Because of an ignorant feud between a Brazilian and an American scientist," she replied scornfully. "I daresay the Bendego meteorite will have survived; after all, it has been through much worse heat before landing on earth," she murmured ruefully.

"Bendego?" Booth repeated.

"A 11,600-pound meteorite found in 1784 by a young farm boy hunting for his lost cow," Brennan explained. "There's no telling how many of the 20 million specimens are destroyed. Frescoes from Pompei, recordings of extinct indigenous languages, a unique collection of amazingly-preserved pterosaurs, the surprisingly complete skeletons of Tapejara, Tupuxuara, and Tupandactylus…I had hoped to take Parker to see them someday; they had such incredibly elaborate cranial crests," she mourned.

"Their fire suppression systems probably malfunctioned. The Natural History Museum in New Delhi lost its entire collection in April 2016, and the venomous spiders, scorpions and snakes held at the Instituto Butantan in São Paulo for medical research was destroyed in 2010. They had no fire suppression system at all. Inadequate funding and budgetary neglect have caused tragic losses of research, heritage and historic knowledge at many institutions worldwide. Few places have the Jeffersonian's resources to protect their artifacts," she told Booth.

The next televised image was an aerial drone-captured photograph of the building revealing the extent of the Sept. 3rd inferno; roof and ceilings gone, and the floors of its cavernous rooms buried in ash and debris.

The couple had taken an extended Labor Day break from their work. During a weekend spent at their cabin on Broadsky-purchased land, they had purposely avoided electronics in favor of family time. Christine and Hank, Booth and Brennan had agreed to forego television, radio, and cell phones except for weather alerts and texts from Parker or squint family members. They'd fished, and hiked, and swum; talking, laughing and enjoying each other.

The downside of this hiatus was missing the news; the momentary blessing of not hearing about this fire. Booth took Brennan in his arms, and tried to console for the momentous scientific loss in an area far south of D.C. where she had spent time on several Brazilian National Museum-sponsored digs. Knowing several of its scientists personally amplified her sadness.

"I believe I will make a sizeable donation to the Museu Nacional when my next book advance check arrives," Brennan mused.

"I believe the folks in Rio would appreciate that very much, Bones," Booth agreed as he kissed her. "I betcha Hodgins might kick in some money to assist them as well. He told me last week that since the legal snafu over his brother's trust has been resolved, he and Angela no longer bear the burden of being Jeffrey's sole financial support."

"I didn't know that, Booth. It must be a relief to them, after donating all of Pelant's drone-stolen funds to charity several years ago when Angela finally traced them. That was extremely generous of Dr. Hodgins, but he could not have foreseen his brother's medical needs at the time."

"You and Hodgins are both such giving spirits, Bones. Assisting the Brazilian Jeffersonian would be an admirable thing to do. They'll probably dedicated a rebuilt wing of the museum to each of you."

"Booth, I'd never want that! Don't think Dr. Hodgins would either. What is it you said when you provided the hospital children's carnival in secret? 'Charity brags not itself, it is not puffed up.' I strongly agree with you that real charity is anonymous. I can't rebuild the entire National Museum for Rio de Janeiro, but I'll do what I can."

"Yes, you will, Bones. You always do. That's part of why I love you."


End file.
